


Home (Where My Love Lies Waiting)

by Silent_So_Long



Series: otpprompts [32]
Category: Rammstein
Genre: M/M, Sexual Content, Tumblr Prompt, Tumblr: otpprompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 08:54:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4013506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silent_So_Long/pseuds/Silent_So_Long
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richard, Paul and a reunion</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home (Where My Love Lies Waiting)

**Author's Note:**

> written for the following prompt left upon tumblr’s otpprompts: [Imagine person A hugging person B from behind and whispering in their ear “Hi, sweetness” in a dreamy tone. It turns out that they were away on some trip and they decided to surprise person B.](http://otpprompts.tumblr.com/post/116677004741/imagine-person-a-hugging-person-b-from-behind-and)
> 
>  
> 
> Title comes from the song “Homeward Bound” by Simon and Garfunkel

Paul sighed, as he wound his way through the front door of the apartment he shared with Richard, body soaking wet from the rain that still pummeled Berlin streets outside; runnels of too cold water trickled from his hair, to course between the gap left between his collar and his neck. The sensations against already chilled skin made him shiver, as he hung his coat up in the hallway, with cold-deadened fingers. Even though it was already April, Paul was looking forward to the time when the spring-time was further advanced, and true summer began to trickle in, with the promise of hotter days just hanging in the horizon to warm Berlin streets with heat haze hanging over the asphalt. The relentless cold and rain that had held the city in its wet and windy grip in recent weeks was beginning to get a little too much for Paul, even though he was a seasoned Berliner. 

His footsteps sounded too loud in the quiet apartment, despite having already taken his boots off at the door; his socked feet sent thumps against the wooden floor, and across rug runners alike; the silence and emptiness seemed to mock him, as he moved through the rooms, switching on low lighting to help him on his way. He made his way to the kitchen, to switch on the kettle in preparation for making himself a hot chocolate; he left it to boil as he headed for his bedroom to pull dry clothing from his wardrobe. 

He couldn’t help but stare at the double bed that dominated the room, empty now and only partially used by Paul since Richard had had to jet off to L.A. to deal with the mixing of the new Emigrate album. Even though Paul understood that it was a necessary part of being in a band, having had to do it countless times with Richard and Rammstein, he still missed the other man all the same. Even though Richard had recorded most of the latest Emigrate album in Berlin, the actual mixing still was done in America, and perfectionist as he was, Richard had to be there to over-see it. It had been seven years since the last Emigrate album, and Paul had not been with Richard at the time; then, Richard had been living in New York whilst Paul was still in Berlin, and their relationship had been tenuous at best then. Since then, they’d re-forged their friendship which had turned into something deeper, something more loving and meaningful and they’d spent the last couple of years living together. This was the first and longest time that either man had ever spent away from each other since they‘d began dating.

He still was getting dressed in dry clothing when he heard the kettle finish boiling, clicking off on its own in the kitchen; Paul cursed and hurriedly pulled on the thick socks he’d pulled from his chest of drawers, thereby completing his outfit. He hurriedly picked up his wet clothing and dumped it into the tumble dryer, and set the machine into warm, spinning life, before he made his way into the kitchen again. 

Once there, he scooped a generous helping of hot chocolate into a mug before pouring hot water onto it; he smiled when the sweet aroma of chocolate wafted around him, warm and comforting and homely. He ripped open a small package of marshmallows with his teeth, before he scooped a palmful into the top of his mug; he couldn’t wait to sip at the sweet treat, to suck on the small mallows before swallowing them down.

Paul yelled when suddenly a pair of hands clamped down loosely upon his hips and warm weight pressed against the curve of his back; so enraptured had he been with his chocolate that he hadn’t heard the front door opening. He smelt Richard’s familiar cologne, and recognised the soft curve of Richard’s body against his, before he felt Richard’s mouth press a warm kiss against his ear. 

“Hi, sweetness,” Richard said, in a an amused, yet decidedly rapturous whisper in Paul’s ear. “Did you make any of that chocolate for me?” 

“Jesus, Reesh, what the hell are you trying to do? Kill me?” Paul asked, even as he tried to squirt far enough out of Richard’s grasp to direct a frown at the other man. 

“And why would I want to do that, now?” Richard asked, clearly perplexed by Paul’s question.

“You could have told me you were coming home early,” Paul said, a distinct pout clear in his tone that he found oddly embarrassing. 

“Well, that would have spoiled the surprise, don’t you think?” Richard asked, as he raised one eyebrow at Paul. “I can always leave, text you my new arrival time and walk back in again, if that pleases you.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Paul said, as a laugh leaked unbidden from his lips. “I’m glad you’re home. I missed you.”

“Did you, now?” Richard asked, obviously aiming for disbelief but failing.

His pleasure was evident in the curve of his lips and the easy way with which he rested his hands against upon Paul’s hips again, when Paul rested up against him, chests now aligning. Paul smiled at him, and received a grin in return. 

“I did,” Paul replied, as he began to nuzzle against Richard’s nose. “Very much so, in fact.” 

“Want to show me how much you missed me?” Richard asked, as he leant in still further to nuzzle against Paul’s neck affectionately. “Every night I’d dream of being in bed with you and making love to you.” 

Paul groaned, eyes closing as his body reacted to Richard’s closeness; his breathing deepened, as his hands mapped out the familiar lines of Richard’s body, the same lines that he’d missed on so many nights past.

“Aren’t you going to tell me how your trip went?” Paul murmured, a little distractedly from where Richard was trailing bites and kisses against his neck.

“Afterwards,” Richard said. “This is more important right now.” 

Paul moaned again, unable to resist any more; he allowed Richard to lead him back into the bedroom, where the other man stripped him of his clothes, that he’d taken so long putting on mere minutes before. He watched with interest as Richard stripped, soft lines of his body slowly exposed to the light. Paul smiled when Richard settled beside him beneath the covers, mouth soon latching in a warm line against his. The kiss was slow, quite unlike the hurried removal of clothing of before, hands caressing in warm lines against each other’s bodies. Paul sighed into Richard’s mouth, as he re-learned his lover’s body, and the shape of his mouth and his hips and his hands, skin warm and soft beneath his palm, just as he always remembered it.

Even though Richard had not been away for very long, it felt longer, more like a few months than a week or two, and his homecoming felt all the sweeter for it. And when finally they did come together, Richard’s body thrusting gently against his, Paul submitted easily, eyes closed, mouth open to reveal ragged gasps, as Richard took him slowly, gently, every movement languid and well-measured, with an air of desperation lurking beneath it all. And when Paul came, it was with Richard’s name upon his lips, Richard’s face in his mind, and Richard’s body against his own; Richard was all-consuming and all he had and all he wanted.

He heard, as well as felt, Richard coming apart against him, heard the utter need and sheer desperation in his lover’s tone, and that told him more than anything Richard ever could say that that the other man had missed him too whilst he was away.

Paul smiled lazily and rolled into Richard when the love-making was over, head shoring up in its familiar position against Richard’s shoulder, hand immediately coming to rest upon the other man’s soft abdomen. He leant back slightly, craned his neck to receive an awkward kiss from Richard, before he spoke.

“Love you,” he murmured against Richard's mouth. 

“Love you too, Paulchen,” Richard huffed and Paul could hear the embarrassment in Richard’s tone, even though theirs were the only ears that would hear their words. 

Paul smiled in affection before curling up against him properly. In time, they rose and cleaned up, before dressing and returning to the kitchen. Paul made a fresh mug of hot chocolate for them both, before they settled across from one another at the kitchen table. The light in the room seemed too harsh, too domineering for all that had happened previously, as though the brightness of it would strip away the beauty and the intimacy of their earlier love-making. Paul didn't feel comfortable there, so he stood and led Richard back into the bedroom again, where the light at least could be dimmed again. Richard seemed to understand his meaning without ever having to ask, immediately settling upon the bed again with his mug of chocolate.

There, they curled together, drinking and talking until evening turned into late night and Paul's eyes felt heavy with tiredness. He’d heard Richard’s tales of the recording process, patiently, despite growing tiredness; whilst he wasn’t interested overly much about Emigrate as a band, he still cared that it was something Richard wanted to do all the same and wanted to at least show interest in, for love of Richard himself. He felt the warm press of Richard's lips against one closed eye, before his mouth was transferred softly against Paul’s own lax lips.

“We’d best get to bed, love,” Richard murmured against him. “Sleepy-head.”

Paul mumbled something incomprehensible then, even as he felt Richard removing the empty mug from his fingers and pulling him to his feet a little unsteadily. From there, he allowed Richard to wrestle him into his pyjamas, feigning further sleepiness so that the other man would have to do most of the work. Richard seemed to realise, yet didn’t seem to care, merely went along with the charade laughingly. Paul curled up in bed once it was done, and he was changed, before he waited for Richard to curl up with him, soft cotton pyjamas warm and worn beneath his fingers as he slid one arm around Richard’s body. Richard kissed him goodnight and Paul smiled lazily against him, before he settled against the warmth and solidity of Richard's body to fall asleep himself.


End file.
